MOVIE REVIEW: Line-blurring Albert Nobbs’ has the look of a winner

Friday

Jan 27, 2012 at 12:01 AMJan 27, 2012 at 9:02 AM

Can Glenn Close pull off the task of playing a man? You bet her baggy britches she can. And in the cross-dressing lollapalooza that is “Albert Nobbs,” the Oscar-nominated actress does it without the elaborate prosthetics that made fellow nominee Meryl Streep look so freakish in “The Iron Lady.”

Al Alexander

Can Glenn Close pull off the task of playing a man? You bet her baggy britches she can. And in the cross-dressing lollapalooza that is “Albert Nobbs,” the Oscar-nominated actress does it without the elaborate prosthetics that made fellow nominee Meryl Streep look so freakish in “The Iron Lady.”

It’s the performance, though, that makes her portrayal of the sad-sack servant Albert Nobbs extremely lorn and incredibly Close. There are few words to describe what she does with even fewer words in bringing to life a buttoned-up butler whose distinctive bowler enables the petite she-male to bear more than a passing resemblance to Charlie Chaplin. And, like the Little Tramp, Close’s Albert wears his tragedy prominently on his sleeve. He even walks like Chaplin in his oversized shoes and ill-fitting suit.

Where Close and Chaplin part ways is in her inability to project sufficient pathos to warrant an audience’s sympathy for a character so repressed he practically fades into the woodwork of the 19th century Dublin inn where he resides but seldom lives. It’s called Morrison Hotel, just like the classic album by The Doors featuring the cut “Waiting for the Sun.” And, indeed, Albert is waiting for his sun to pop in the form of a tobacco shop he dreams of opening in a vacant storefront he’s had his eye on for some time.

Close viscerally communicates how deeply felt this reverie has become to Albert, as he ritualistically places every dollar he earns via salary and tips in neat piles beneath the floorboards of his sterile room inside the Morrison, his longtime employer. That ever expanding nest egg is just about the only thing that keeps the purposely reclusive loner going in a world that barely even acknowledges his existence. About the only person giving Albert the time of day is the hotel’s resident doctor (Brendan Gleeson), a gregarious bear of a man with a lavish taste for women and drink. And given the gender-bending secret Albert holds beneath the tight wraps binding his breasts, he wouldn’t have it any other way. For if Albert’s true identity was to ever be revealed he would be out of a job at a time and place where women were rarely afforded an opportunity to work.

So imagine Albert’s shock when his boss, the surly, penny-pinching Mrs. Baker (Pauline Collins), orders him to share his room with the newly hired housepainter, Hubert, a strapping hunk of a man who is as assured and confident as Albert is bottled-up and frightened. Sure enough, Hubert quickly learns his roomie’s secret. But lucky for Albert, Hubert has a secret, too. And as played by Oscar-nominee Janet McTeer, Hubert makes an even more convincing man than Close. In fact, McTeer is so good, she practically commandeers the movie; and a good part of you wishes that she had, given how much more compelling her Hubert becomes compared to Albert.

Ditto for the lovely Mia Wasikowska, endearingly charming as the Morrison’s cheeky chambermaid, Helen, whom Hubert persistently urges Albert to pursue as a life partner. Only problem is that Helen has already got a fella in the hotel’s handsome but irresponsible handyman, Joe (“Kick-Ass” vet Aaron Johnson), who freely encourages his lass to lead Albert on in order to free the gullible butler from his bucks.

What ensues is as tragic as it is heartfelt, thanks largely to the indelible work by Close, McTerr and Wasikowska, all of whom share a palpable chemistry, as director Rodrigo Garcia subtly explores parallel themes of identity, sexuality and feminism. It doesn’t always work, but the script, co-written by Close, John Banville and Gabriella Prekop (based on a short story by George Moore), is certainly ambitious, not to mention brave in its stark definitions of marriage as love between two people, whether they both be men or both be women.

It’s just too bad Close, who won an Obie for playing Albert off-Broadway 30 years ago and fought nearly a decade to get the film version made, couldn’t find a way to fill her character with more humor and insight. Had she, the movie, excuse the expression, would be less of a drag.